“I don’t think,” she said, in a slow voice, as she fixed her eyes on the wall in front of her, “there is another picture in the world I should value so much as that one. I simply love that picture.”
William was troubled.
“The old master loves it, too.”
“But you gave it me, you know.” June was painfully conscious of a swift deepening of colour.
The plain fact was not denied.
“You mustn’t think me very hard and grasping if I hold you to the bargain.”
“No, Miss June. If you insist, of course the picture is yours.”
“To do with just as I like.”
“Why yes, certainly.”
June proceeded to take the bull by the horns. “Very well,” she said. “After supper, I shall ask you to hand it over to me, and I will put it in a place of safety.”